


Where There Is Goodness

by orphan_account



Category: Cinderella 2015
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 13:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4608639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ella’s face. Neither of them could bear to look at her face, to meet her eyes, even glance her way. The expression of devastation was too blatant, too accusing. It made them feel even guiltier, watching her tentative touch run over the fragments of shattered glass, the ones that twinkled on the ground like fairy dust from a magic wand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where There Is Goodness

Ella’s face. Neither of them could bear to look at her face, to meet her eyes, even glance her way. The expression of devastation was too blatant, too accusing. It made them feel even guiltier, watching her tentative touch run over the fragments of shattered glass, the ones that twinkled on the ground like fairy dust from a magic wand. She was just as shattered as the glass slipper that had once stood so proudly on the mantle where a clock would have generally sat. Aenor could see from her stance in the corner that she was close to tears, and that made it so much worse. Her mother never cried, Kit was always the one who showed the emotion. Ella, Ella never shed any tears, not when her children could see. With the knowledge that she had brought her mother close to weeping, Aenor did not consider not being able to blame Marcus for the incident the worst thing to have happened that day.

They had been arguing, again. Nowadays all they did was fight, about everything from irritating habits to obnoxious opinions on current events and court gossip. Marcus simply didn’t understand that Aenor was growing up and needed space, which included not wanting to run around with him and Edmund anymore - and the princess was in no mind to start explaining to him why she did not consider it appropriate any longer. Marcus, finding her attitude high strung and insulting to himself. So, when the fight had emerged while they scoured their parents room for any hint of what lay in store for them at Christmas, things became very, very loud incredibly fast.

Neither could recall what had started the conflict, only that it finished with Aenor hurtling a pillow across the room at Marcus, with the intention to beat him senseless, and the pair watching the white missile knock the glass slipper off its resting place above the fire. Marcus had panicked, but all Aenor had been able to do was stare at the fragments at her feet. How did her impulsive actions force so much pain on others? Why had she been paralysed with fear, with fear of what her mother, of what her father, would say? She needn’t be worried, really. They had yet to say anything.

They opened the door to find their memento, their sentimental souvenir of their love story, broken to pieces on the floor, and they had nor even exchanged a glance with each other, or thrown a flicker of an eye in their children’s direction. Ella had wordlessly moved to the remnants of their most prized possession, silently kneeling to the ground as she struggled to comprehend what had happened, not wishing to believe it, and Kit had blinked, and blinked some more, his mind reeling as he folded his arms behind his head and returned them limply to his sides, finding a chair conveniently positioned to help overcome the shock.

“What happened?” The Queen finally croaked, not looking up from her object of thought, her heart as broken as her beloved slipper. It had been eons since a sound had been made, save the rustle of cloth, and it both Marcus and Aenor flinch. It made their debate seem so pointless, so worthless and childish, now, knowing that because of that they had damaged the very reason their parents were together.

“We, we were arguing and I threw…” Aenor had always been able to communicate her point with the upmost clarity, and now she did not know what to say. It sounded so idiotic, so petty, now. Aenor knew her mother could not, would not, look her way and the princess did not even want to risk the possibility that she might see her mothers tears, so she looked to her father, in hopes of conveying her remorse.

Kit did not challenge what they had been doing in the room, he didn’t even think to ask, his thoughts focused on the dashed glass on his bedroom floor. He met his daughters eyes with a heavy heart, uncertain as to whether or not he had the capacity to forgive her. She was his daughter, his flesh and blood, but that slipper had been… That slipper had been the only representation of the love of his life for the first few stages of his relationship with Ella. Without that slipper, Aenor would not have ever existed. None of their children would have existed. Without that slipper, Ella would have been lost to him forever, a mystery maiden that stole his heart and never saw him again.

“It was my fault.” Marcus instantly jumped in, and his father frowned. It was an obvious lie, but the twelve year old was determined to sell it, and that at least earned him some merit. “I did it.”

“He’s lying, it’s my fault.” Aenor insisted, decidedly confused by her little brothers intent. If there was one thing the pair had never done to each other, it was stick up for one another, and it was a strange feeling. “He’s just trying to protect me.” Her father raised his eyebrows in a questioning stare, and she knew what he was thinking. Christopher watched her back, even Lily held her line occasionally when the situation was dire, but Marcus was always the first to yield - more often than not he was the one who ran to fetch Ella or Kit. But, despite how foreign the concept was, it felt right to Marcus.

“No, no I’m not!” The twelve year argued back, and from her position by the floor Ella turned to assess the expression on his face. “I just wanted to shove it off, so I shoved it off!” Ella returned her eyes to the sparkling pile of dust she had come to amount, small crystals of the shattered glass clinging to her fingertips as she moved them about in the sunlight.

“No you didn’t.” She breathed, completely aware that her son would never do something like that. That was not a kind thing to do, and while he had his impulsive and irrational moments (that were not necessarily friendly), he was not an unkind boy.

“Yes, I did!” Marcus yelled, desperate to convince his parents. “You can’t blame Aenor, because it’s my fault!” He wasn’t protecting his sister because it was right, he wasn’t protecting his sister because she needed protecting, he just wanted to make sure she wasn’t so terribly scolded. It wasn’t because Marcus was used to being lectured, used to punishments, even though he was. He just wanted to, out of the goodness of his heart, and that’s what summoned a certain fae.

Fairy Godmother looked exactly as she had the night of the ball, a faint hum of energy thrilling through the air as she materialised by the window in a pool of white light. Despite the sombre situation she had a ridiculous grin on her face, an unbreakable sense of warmth, cheerfulness and spirit surrounding her. Ella was the last to notice, absorbed by the fragmentations beneath her fingertips. When she did notice, however, she was just as confused as her children and husband as to what, exactly, she was doing there. Leanore only appeared when things were perfect, when things were good and happy. Nothing was happy or perfect about this moment in time.

“Really?” The fae giggled, a questioning look sent to the two children. “And those were my masterpieces.” She mused sadly, but her words were hastily followed with a chuckle.  
How could she be so lighthearted and amiable? How could she be so happy? Ella could not know. Surely Leanore was at least a little invested in the last remaining glass slipper, felt a little remorse over the remnant of the past now destroyed? The glass slipper meant everything to her, how could it mean nothing to someone else? It signified magic and goodness, that her dreams could come true and that her love for Kit could not be ignored.

“Fairy Godmother-”

“I’m not supposed to be here, I know!” Leanore gushed. “But, you remember your mothers words, yes? Besides from have courage and be kind, I mean? Although, those are quite marvellous instructions to live by, if I do say so myself! No, no.” She interrupted herself, sensing Ella’s confusion and evident distraction. “Your mothers grandmother, my dear, told her to always believe in magic - as she taught you to do so - and a simple formula that could never be gainsaid.” Another goofy sort of smile came to her face. “Where there is kindness, there is goodness, and where there is goodness there is magic.”

Ella remembered those words, but had not carried them with her with the same weight as she had ‘have courage and be kind’. She recalled how her late mother had begged her to take courage from that knowledge, how she had insisted that if she was good and kind then magic would not seem so very impossible. Her promises had been proven right on the night of the ball, when Ella showed kindness to a strange and elderly beggar-woman and goodness had become magic.

“I remember.” The Queen breathed, eyes watering. She didn’t even make an effort to conceal her distress, despite two of her children being present.

“Yes, well it would seem that your darling boy is defending his sister out of kindness, and so naturally I was made aware of the circumstances.” Her smile changed from goofy to secretive, now. “I felt that I might be able to fix some broken things, as where there is goodness so should there be magic, and maybe you might forgive Marcus for his lies and Aenor for her miscalculated aim?” Ella choked out a sob covered laugh, it all seeming so surreal. She had been mourning and grieving over her greatest material treasure, her heartbroken, and now Fairy Godmother had appeared to save the day. “And, I have to admit, I do rather think that you would prefer a pair as opposed to a single shoe, yes?” Ella frowned.

“I thought you couldn’t…” When first Leanore had seen Ella following her reunion with Kit, the fairy had explained, with a great degree of remorse and something vaguely like frustration, to her of the restrictions concerning magic that directly affected mortals. Those rules were the reason why Leanore had failed to intervene on Ella’s part when the abuse of her stepfamily became so great, because Ella had not lost all hope. She needed to break and shatter before she could be resurrected with the assistance of magic. Due to these laws, Leanore had not been in a position to mend the cruelly broken slipper.

“Oh no, I couldn’t then, my dear. Now is now, then is gone, and I have the perfect excuse to exercise some cobbling skills!” Happily, the fairy twittered over to where the shards were scattered and, helping Ella to her feet, assessed the damage as Kit went to stand by his wife’s side. He probably should have reached over to her, held her hand at the very least, but he hadn’t. He was too busy coping with his own remorse and disbelief, and a part of him knew that nothing he ever said could have made anything okay.

With a flick of her wand, muttering under her breath words that sounded terribly like ‘bibbidi bobbidi boo’, Leanore looked admiringly as her crowning glory took shape with the delicacy of butterfly wings. Aenor and Marcus watched in stunned awe, unable to contain their appreciation of the item being re-crafted before their eyes. It was so, so beautiful, and Kit was equally amazed, transfixed by the blue hues the slipper took on before become crystal glass.

“You kept the shards, yes?” Fairy Godmother prompted the Queen, turning to her as Ella stared at the perfect object on the floor, nodding without taking her eyes away. “Even the heel?” Another nod. “Right, well!” Leanore gestured for the audience to take a step or so back before proceeding to perform a summoning spell. 

She paused for a moment following, cocking her head as if to think why it had not worked - until there fame a tinkling sound from the corner and slowly a trail of glass fragments floated, suspended mid air, towards her. They took shape with a graceful elegance that was so alien to everyone, and so fascinating as well. The slipper was almost complete when there came a slight ting from Ella and she looked down, hand reach for a locket she wore beneath her dress. When it wasn’t about her neck on a long, long chain, the simple piece of jewellery was stowed safely in her bedside draw, under lock and key.

It looked too common to belong to a queen, but the simple gold trinket befitted a good honest country girl, seemingly a gift from a loving apprentice she had come to know, with no ornamentation save an engraving of a butterfly on the door - a butterfly that resembled the one that rested on her slipper. Inside was a miniature, and exceedingly accurate, portrait of Ella’s family estate, so that she might carry the love she and her parents felt for her childhood home around with her, close to her heart, and stowed between the two faces also rested three small shards of glass. They were the smallest that weren’t considered dust, and Ella had pressed them inside and smiled whenever her fingers brushed against the gold outer shell, knowing the memory of glass that felt more like silk.

With shaking hands, Ella opened her locket and the shards danced free, joining their brothers and sisters as the glass slipper that sat at her feet, and she wept for how beautiful the moment was.


End file.
